


Coexisting

by Jupis



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Has Nightmares, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Comic Book Howard Stark, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Multi, Polyamory, Slow Burn, They Bond Over Mutual Issues, Tony Calls Him James Because Steve Calls Him Bucky, Tony Stark Has Nightmares, Tony Stark has PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-12 16:05:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19232449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupis/pseuds/Jupis
Summary: Steve shows up with Bucky Barnes and decides to tell Tony the truth before things get out of hand. Now Tony is learning to coexist with the man that murdered his parents because hey, getting kidnapped and forced to do things against your will kind of sucks. That doesn't mean that everything is peachy though. Established Steve/Bucky with eventual Steve/Bucky/Tony. Bonding and understanding over shared issues.





	1. Chapter 1

The arrangement was strange. It wasn’t something Tony entirely knew what to do with. People expected him to feel awkward and uncomfortable about harboring the man who had killed his parents, but well… Tony only sort of did. Not as much as he thought he should or rather as much as _people_ thought he should. Yes, it bothered him -- he wasn’t _that_ good of a man -- but if Tony was being entirely honest… he knew what it was like to consider doing something he would live to regret in a desperate situation.

In that cave, while being waterboarded, Tony had considered several times just giving in. Just agreeing to make the missiles to get them to stop. Sometimes Tony wondered what would have happened if Yinsen hadn’t been there… would he have had the courage to continue to refuse? Tony didn’t always know, and the possibility that he might have given in made him sick to his stomach. It was his greatest shame, and all things considered, that was a fairly impressive feat all on its own.

So Tony didn’t fully understand, he didn’t totally forgive, but he could sympathize with being kidnapped by a bunch of assholes and being made to do extremely regrettable things. He also knew that Barnes had had it far worse than he had; Tony had never been brainwashed and continuously had his mind wiped. Tony also strongly suspected that Barnes’ “conditioning” hadn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. HYDRA didn’t seem the type. Tony could hardly condemn the man or even really hold him responsible… Well, maybe a little responsible? He wasn’t sure. He just knew that his emotions were conflicted, but he also knew that Steve loved Barnes and needed him.

The two had been nearly inseparable since Steve turned up on the doorstep with Barnes in tow, both men expecting Tony to turn them away. Tony surprised even himself that night by staying calm as he listened to the story. He had told Steve that he was an Avenger and that the tower would always be his home. When Steve had asked about Barnes… Tony had shrugged and pointed out that there was an empty room across the hall from Steve’s.

Afterwards, while he had been by himself, well, that was an entirely different matter. Tony had stayed locked in his lab for an immensely unhealthy amount of time, drinking himself stupid every waking hour among a few other self destructive habits. He grieved and fought with himself, struggling with the thoughts of going upstairs and killing Barnes before he finally came to… this. This strange understanding with himself. This strange sort of peace that while he could never forgive Barnes, he didn’t fully blame him, and he thought he could coexist with him.

Barnes actually made the coexisting thing fairly easy. He stayed glued to Steve and yet also managed to never be in the same room with Tony for very long. It almost felt like there was a ghost in the tower. A very melancholy ghost but a ghost nonetheless. That’s why Tony was so surprised when he rounded a corner one day and came face to face with the ghost, standing very rigid and eerily still. Tony stopped mid-stride, not fully sure what to make of the scene.

“Barnes?” he asked and almost instantly wished that he hadn’t.

Barnes’ attention snapped towards Tony. The wildness of his eyes. The terror. It struck Tony deep in ways he hadn’t been expecting. Barnes was like a rabid animal in that moment. A very dangerous rabid animal that could break him in two without batting an eye. Every single fiber of Tony’s being told him to step back, to get away. Call the suit. Call for Steve. Call for Jarvis. Something, anything. He just needed to protect himself from the super soldier who was no longer able to distinguish between the past and present.

Barnes said something in Russian, or at least what Tony thought was Russian, but he honestly didn’t know. It was low and threatening; Barnes' voice was as smooth as gravel. Again Tony had the thought that he needed to back up, but he couldn’t move. It wasn’t fear that rooted and paralyzed him. It was something Tony didn’t have a name for except that it _hurt._

“Barnes,” Tony drew quietly in a voice so gentle that Bob Ross would have been envious. “Barnes you need to calm down. Whatever is happening… it’s not real.”

If Tony had to wager a guess as to what Barnes was yelling at him, he’d guess it was some sort of curse or blight on his grandmother. Pure speculation though.

“Barnes,” Tony tried again but this time he took a step towards the Winter Soldier.

Barnes clutched his head tightly and screamed again, a noise more animal than man. It made Tony’s blood freeze in his veins. Tony was very much aware of the fact that the man in front of him was considered to be one of the most deadly assassins of all times, and he had his gaze fixed on Tony. There was a cold familiarity in that look; a cold calculation in Barnes’ eyes that reminded Tony that at one point in time, he had been on Barnes’ hit list, and in that look, he knew Barnes was remembering that too.

“Barnes.” Nothing. No response. No recognition that Tony was anything but a potential threat. A smarter man would have called for Steve, but well, sometimes for a smart man, Tony could be awfully dumb. “Bucky.” And that _did_ get a reaction though certainly not the sort that Tony had been hoping for: Barnes snarled like a feral dog and took a step towards Tony.

Nope, calling him Bucky was most definitely not the way to go, Tony decided quickly.

“James.” Barnes froze. He looked startled but perhaps maybe not as… lethal? Not as murderous? This Tony could work with. “James, I need you to listen to me. What’s happening?”

“It… it hurts,” Barnes whispered with such raw agony that Tony thought his heart might shatter if he actually had one. “It hurts so bad. Why… what’s…” And when Barnes couldn’t seem to think of the words quickly enough, he screamed a slur of Russian again, but Tony was definitely going to consider this progress. Tony took another step closer and Barnes snarled, “Get back!”

“Shh. It’s okay.” Tony held up his hands to show Barnes that he had nothing, that he wasn’t a threat, but he stayed put for the moment, watching as Barnes clenched and unclenched his hands. “Everything is going to be okay. I promise. Just breathe James. In and out. In and out. There you go. Do you know where you are?”

Barnes shook his head no and the question elicited a very poor response. Barnes’ eyes began whirling about, and he stumbled back as if he were the one that needed to get away. But Tony didn’t relent.

“You’re in the Avengers Tower. You’re home, James. You’re safe. You’re safe and sound, and you’re at home.”

“No. No… No, this isn’t home!”

“Yes it is. You’re home, James. You’re safe."

“No, no! This is… it’s all wrong!”

Tony was almost within arm’s reach of Barnes now. “I know. I know it seems wrong, but it isn’t. For the first time in years, you’re safe James. You’re safe, and you’re home. Do you know what’s happening? You’re having an episode, James. Those feelings? That panic and terror? It’s real, I know you’re feeling it, but there’s no reason for it, I swear. Because you’re safe and you’re _home_ , James. Do you want some gum?”

“I -- what? Gum?”

“Yeah. I, uh, starting carrying it when I got back from Afghanistan,” Tony reluctantly admitted as he fished out a pack from his pocket. “Chewing helps ground you in the moment. Come on, just try it for me. Please?”

Tony reached out and offered Barnes a piece. They stood like that for several moments, Barnes hesitating before he finally reached out as well and accepted, their fingers brushing. Barnes quickly recoiled again, metal arm clutching the gum to his chest. Tony smiled encouragingly.

“You’re safe, James,” Tony repeated firmly. “Do you want me to back up?”

Numbly, Barnes shook his head no, and Tony also took that as progress. Tony hesitated for a moment before he slowly reached out, giving Barnes all the time in the world to pull away. But Barnes didn’t; he stood planted, desperately clinging to the tiny piece of gum as if it might offer him salvation and absolution. It wasn’t exactly _chewing_ per say but if it helped, it helped. Tony’s fingers brushed Barnes’ surprisingly silky dark hair. Barnes’ eyes snapped up towards Tony’s hand, and so he paused for a moment, simply letting his hand rest there.

“You’re safe, James,” he murmured again, his voice softer now that they were closer together. “I swear. You’re safe here.”

Relief washed over Barnes’ face so suddenly that Tony was slightly surprised. Barnes’ form sagged and then next thing Tony knew, the Winter Soldier had collapsed against him. Tony’s smaller frame was barely able to hold the man up. He staggered slightly before he was able to carefully lower them to the ground. Barnes went easily enough, his arms wrapped tightly around Tony and his face buried in Tony’s neck and shoulder. With Barnes half in his lap, Tony loosely wrapped his arms around him. He brought one hand up to stroke Barnes’ hair again, simply holding him.

“Jarvis,” Tony called quietly to his AI. “Get me Cap, will you?”

“Certainly sir.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments. I greatly appreciate them! I'm kind of a shy person so I have a hard time replying, but I promise I read them and they mean a lot.

“You said when you got back from Afghanistan.”

Tony nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the voice. He whipped around, his coffee cup still in hand, his chest fluttering as his adrenaline levels spiked dramatically. He hadn’t even heard Barnes come up behind him. How did Barnes move so quietly? Then Tony remembered. Right. Assassin. Expert at sneakiness. Why did everything about Barnes have to remind him of the fact that the man in front of him was a killer? It would be so much easier to live with Barnes if he could forget that small little detail.

“I, uh, what?”

Barnes blinked. “The other night. You said you started carrying gum when you got back from Afghanistan.”

“Oh. Yeah. I did say that. I’m kind of surprised you remember that,” Tony remarked as he shifted slightly, wondering where this conversation was going.

“You were a soldier?” Barnes asked, and Tony almost blasted the man right then and there he sounded so doubtful and superior. Instead Tony carefully arranged himself and leaned back against the kitchen counter.

“Not even close.”

“So… you weren’t deployed there?”

“No.”

Barnes looked confused for a moment, but Tony wasn’t offering up anything else. How was it that the Winter Soldier knew about the war in Afghanistan but somehow managed to miss the fact that Tony had been kidnapped and held in a smelly cave there? Well, if Buck-a-roo couldn’t find those answers for himself, Tony wasn’t about to offer them up. Shockingly, it wasn’t exactly his favorite conversation topic.

They fell into a silence after that, simply watching each other.

“I know I’m absolutely captivating, but we’re toeing that line between flattering and overkill,” Tony remarked absently, his tone coolly neutral.

But Barnes smirked almost mischievously in response, and Tony was surprised at how… suiting it was. Up until that moment, he hadn’t seen many expressions on Barnes’s face. Mostly he just looked blank or lost. But this… well, he was almost handsome.

“I don’t think you have an overkill,” Barnes remarked playfully.

Now it was Tony’s turn to smile. “Figured that out already?”

“It’s kind of obvious. I’ve never meant someone theatrical enough to prance around in a suit made of iron.”

“One, I am deeply insulted that you think my suit is made of iron. It’s actually a gold titanium alloy --”

“I’ll bet I could still crush it,” Barnes interjected with the biggest cat ate the cannery smile Tony had ever seen.

“-- And two, your boyfriend runs around in red, white, and blue spandex, throwing a giant metal frisbee at people. Now that is a level of theatrism that would make a thirteen year old in their goth phase swoon.”

“... Touché.”

They fell into another silence, and Tony decided to use that opportunity to complete his original task: coffee. He turned and busied himself with making a new pot, acutely aware of the fact that Barnes was watching his every movement. Tony wasn’t entirely sure what to think. So far they had avoided each other quite successfully until the other night, but it certainly seemed like Barnes had deliberately sought him out today. And where was Steve? Tony hadn’t thought that Barnes could function without Steve in his sightline for more than a few moments.

“So if your suit is gold --”

“Gold titanium alloy.”

“-- Then why are you called Iron Man?”

“Because Stark men are made of Iron,” Tony replied flippantly as he poured himself a fresh cup of coffee, not even stopping to consider his words. He very rarely did.

“I heard Howard say that once.”

And Tony froze, his grip tightening on his cup a considerable amount. He was glad his back was to Barnes. They were treading on a very precarious conversation now. Tony slowly forced himself to relax, to breath through his nose, and regain his ever so carefully constructed facade. He turned back to Barnes and leaned against the counter, the very picture of comfort as he blew on his coffee. 

“I’d rather not talk about my father,” Tony said after a long moment as casually as someone might say that they didn’t want to talk about football.

“Right. Of course. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Barnes was slowly backing away, and Tony couldn’t help but see the deep rooted anguish on the man’s face, hear the self hatred and loathing in is voice. Just like that, Barnes was back to looking like that tortured ghost, and silently Tony cursed.

“No, it’s not that,” Tony said quickly, not wanting to completely undo everything. He liked Barnes’ smile. Even if he was a murderer. “Well… not entirely at least. I’ve never liked talking about Howard. You just… surprised me.”

“Why don’t you like talking about Howard?”

Tony arched a brow. Tony waited for a moment, waiting for it to click in what little was left of Barnes’ brain that this was exactly the thing he had just said he didn’t want to talk about, but it never came. Barnes just kept looking at him. Barnes’ eyes were hard, Tony noted. Not like Steve’s. Steve’s were bright blue and so entirely earnest and pure. Barnes’ were blue as well but old. Old and sad, but he still somehow managed to look earnest as well. Like he wanted to truly know the answer.

Finally, because he couldn’t stand the stretched silence, Tony replied, “That’s a complicated question,” and he hoped that that would be enough.

“If it’s complicated… seems to me then that maybe that is the thing you need to talk about most.”

“I’d rather let the dead stay dead.”

And whether it was because Barnes was actually giving up on the topic or because of Tony’s word choice, the man looked away and murmured a soft, “Of course.”

There was another stretch of silence before Barnes hesitantly said, “I was wondering if you might be able to help me… my arm… it’s been acting up. I think I might have damaged it. I’ve never done my own repairs, and Steve said that you’re the best engineer he’s ever met… If you don’t want to, that’s fine, I totally get it.”

“No… I’ll, uh, I’ll take a look,” Tony replied with more conviction then he felt.

Truthfully, the curious engineer side of him had been desperate to get his hands on that arm because it really was one cool piece of tech, but that side wasn't always able to reconcile with his more emotional side. You know, the side that reminded Tony that that arm had killed his mother. Logically, he knew Barnes had been brainwashed. Logically, he knew that meant Hydra was actually at fault… but well, Tony wasn’t a perfect person. He wasn’t even a good person half the time. More sort of occasionally okay. He was working towards it though, working on accepting that it wasn’t Barnes’ fault, if only for Steve’s sake… but it was a definite work in progress. Barnes smiled again, and Tony was just faintly glad that he had been the one to cause it.

Tony took a long drink of his coffee before he pushed himself off of the counter and started to walk away. “Well?” he called back. “Are you coming or not?”

“Right now?”

“No time like the present.”


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky was a strange mix of amazed and almost disappointed at the speed at which Tony Stark worked. Blue eyes watched Stark’s hands move across the metallic arm in an almost intricate dance. Stark wasn’t like the Hydra scientists, not even a little. He didn’t need schematics or blueprints. He didn’t need Bucky to provide any information at all. He just seemed to inherently _know_ how everything worked, how everything functioned. How, Bucky couldn’t even begin to guess because it all looked like a mess to him, but Stark didn’t seem to have any problem navigating the chaos whatsoever. Stark just seemed to know exactly the right panels to pull off, the right wires and circuits to… do whatever to. Bucky wasn’t even fully sure what Stark was doing. 

But he liked watching him work. He liked watching Tony’s fingers slid across the gleaming metal.

Stark’s touch was gentle but authoritative. He handled Bucky’s arm like it was a marvel but he wasn’t delicate or afraid. When he wanted Bucky to move or twist a certain way, he told him so and then guided him into position. There was nothing forceful about any of it, but Stark still managed to command Bucky’s attention which was fairly amazing considering they sat in Stark’s lab. Never had Bucky seen something like Stark’s lab.

Hydra’s labs were ominous. Evil. Even the military labs he had briefly seen were nothing like this. Stark’s lab was sterile but… bright. Like in this very space, Stark dreamed of the future and all its wonders, and then he made those hopes a reality. There was colour, even if it was a bit ostentatious. Bucky especially liked some of the Iron Man artwork that was up around the lab. It was entirely narcissistic and undoubtedly only served to inflate Stark’s already over the top ego… but somehow Bucky found that just a little endearing. Why shouldn’t the man celebrate his accomplishments? It didn’t seem like anyone else was lining up to do so.

What Bucky found most fascinating, however, was Stark’s desk. It was the only part of the lab that was actually even remotely cluttered. There wear parts and pieces of different tech that probably would have been more impressive if Bucky understood it. There was also what looked to be an Iron Man face shield, but none of those were what piqued his interest. Instead he was intrigued by the framed photos, carefully tucked into the corner. Only two but somehow they seemed to be the most intimate items in the entire lab.

“Who’s the dame?” Bucky couldn’t help but ask.

Stark looked up at him and Bucky pointed towards the photo of a rather beautiful woman sitting next to Stark. In the photo, they were both dressed to the nines, and for once, Stark looked like he had an actual genuine smile. Not the smile Bucky usually saw on the front of magazines or the smile Stark seemed to give when he said he was fine when he clearly wasn’t.

“That’s Miss Potts. She’s my assistant.”

Bucky couldn’t imagine that Miss Potts was just Stark’s assistant. No way would someone like Stark keep a photo of a woman on his desk that was just his assistant, but Stark had a look about him that clearly said the subject was off limits. For once, Bucky obliged. He didn’t press it any further, and Tony resumed his work.

“What about him?” Bucky asked after another long stretch of silence, indicating to the other photo: it was a picture of significantly younger Stark and an older man with his arm casually thrown over Stark’s shoulder.

“Obie,” Stark replied without needing to look up.

“Obie?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Who is he?” Bucky pressed after a moment. For a man that talked a lot, Stark didn’t really say much of anything. Certainly never anything personal.

“Was. Business partner.”

“I’m sorry.”

Stark looked up at him with a calculating expression that Bucky didn’t fully understand. “For what?” 

“You said was. I assumed that meant he’s dead?”

Stark smiled a bit unkindly and Bucky found that he wasn’t a fan of that smile. It didn’t suit Stark. “Quite dead. You’re almost finished, snowflake. Just a few more adjustments and I’ll put the paneling back on.”

And there was the disappointment again. Bucky wanted to stay. He wanted to watch Stark work more. He wanted to talk more, but as the last panel snapped back into place and Bucky flexed his now fully functioning arm, he knew that door was closed. At least for the moment. He'd find some way to weasel another conversation out of Stark.  


* * *

 

“He’s painfully beautiful, Stevie,” Bucky couldn’t help but murmur to the other man.

Steve looked up from his drawing in what Bucky could only describe as surprise and confusion. Like he didn’t exactly follow Bucky’s train of thought -- which Bucky thought was probably a pretty fair assessment. His train of thought felt like it had been put into a blender a few too many times, but as always, Steve was patient. Steve’s look turned thoughtful, and he just… waited. Waited for Bucky to either explain or to let it drop or anything at all that Bucky wanted to do. Steve didn’t pressure. He didn’t judge. He was just there.

Bucky peered over at the sketchbook in Steve’s lap, smiling softly at the idyllic cabin carefully tucked away in some sort of secluded woods that his lover was drawing. “That’s pretty good.” And really, it was -- it looked so real Bucky could almost smell the wood in the hearth and feel the dirt beneath his boots. It was soothing. Bucky knew right away that he wanted to put this one up on the wall once Steve was finished.

“Hmm.” 

“Stark, I mean.”

“Stark is pretty good?” Steve asked, and again there was nothing but patience and, though Bucky certainly didn’t deserve it, love.

“No, the drawing is pretty good.”

“And Stark is…?”

“Painfully beautiful,” and Bucky felt a sort of soft warmness in his stomach as he thought about Stark. Thought about his hands on Bucky's arm.

“That’s not how most people would describe Tony,” Steve said carefully.

“He fixed my arm.”

“He likes to fix things.”

“I killed his parents.”

Steve did pause at that one. “Buck… that wasn’t _you_. That was--”

“Hydra. I know.” Or at least Bucky was trying to convince himself that he knew that. It wasn’t entirely working, but he had read somewhere that if you say something enough times, you’ll even start to believe it yourself. He wasn’t holding his breath, but he also didn’t want Steve to have to continuously say it wasn’t his fault over and over again. It was exhausting. 

“But even if it was Hydra,” Bucky continued, his eyes never leaving the drawing least it lose its tranquil spell over him, “most people don’t go fixing the gun that killed their parents.”

“No, but you are a person, not just a weapon, Buck.”

“I’m not sure most people would agree with that.”

“Tony seems to agree.”

Bucky’s gaze flickered up towards Steve, trying to assess if there was a hidden meaning, but Steve just smiled. When he smiled like that, Bucky could almost see the kid he had grown up with in Brooklyn. The barely five foot, less than a hundred pound kid who picked a fight with every single bully he possibly could. That was the kid Bucky had fallen in love with. Sometimes his mind had a hard time putting it together that this towering man sitting in front of him with a perfect jawline and biceps strong enough to stop a helicopter was one in the same with the punk getting creamed in some backalley because he shot his mouth off to a couple of guys twice his size.

Bucky loved that smile with every fiber of his being.

“You said I’d like Stark.”

Steve nodded, his gaze dipping back to his drawing as he started once more. “And do you?”

“Yes… he’s got quite the mouth on him though.” 

Steve laughed at that. “You have no idea.”

“For someone who talks so much though… I don’t think he ever actually says what he means.” Bucky laid back on the bed next to Steve, a position that gave him a good view of Steve’s work.

“Reminds me of someone I know.”

“Hmm,” Bucky replied, not about to rise to that bait. He was silent for a moment before he asked, “Do you think Stark is lonely?”

“Yes. Probably one of the loneliest men I’ve ever met. Don’t go telling him that though. I think it would bother him. He doesn’t really have friends. He has Miss Potts… but that’s about it.”

“Miss Potts? Are they together?”

“Were. Sore subject. I believe she left him, but to be honest, I don’t really know.”

“Hmm. Do you know anything about an Obie? Used to be Stark’s business partner?”

Steve paused and frowned very deeply, looking at Bucky. His jaw was set tightly, as if he were barely concealing his anger. “ _Obadiah Stane_? He tried to kill Tony. Several times. I don’t know all the details, but I know he’s the reason Tony was held hostage in Afghanistan.” 

Now Bucky was frowning. He partially sat up, studying Steve intently. “Afghanistan?”

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Tony was… kind of a warmonger when he was younger. He made weapons for the government. That’s what Stark Industries was founded on. I’m not sure what went south, but Stane tried to have him killed. It backfired though, and the terrorists took Tony hostage instead and tried to get him to make weapons for them. That’s why he has the arc reactor, and where Iron Man came from.”

“Arc reactor?” Bucky repeated, trying not to get frustrated that this was once again another thing he didn’t know or understand. Being a mindless killing machine for seventy years meant that he missed out on a lot.

Steve sighed, suddenly looking more weary then Bucky had seen him in a long time. “Alright, let me start from the beginning.”


End file.
